The Suite Life, page 1
THE SUITE LIFE
PORTIA MACINTOSH
For Joe – extra thanks for this one
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
More from Portia MacIntosh
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Portia MacIntosh
Love Notes
About Boldwood Books
1
This wedding is going to ruin me.
Honestly, you know weddings are going to be expensive, and they’re worth it, right? But it is only when you start planning one that you realise just how expensive they’re really going to be. Everything is so expensive – more so than it would be if it were for a big birthday party, for no reason at all – and it’s not so much that there are hidden costs, just completely random and unexpected ones.
Flowers – yeah. A cake – of course. A dress – obviously. Chair hire – what? Honestly, I’m getting a stitch thinking about it even now. I thought it was a joke when the wedding planner started banging on about chair hire. These venues – these super-duper expensive venues – don’t always come with chairs. They’ll take care of the food, the tables, the curtains that will cover the walls (for some reason it’s cool to cover the walls with curtains) but not the chairs, God forbid, you think they just have chairs lying around? They do, but you have to hire them, and so people typically hire them from somewhere better – great ones. Expensive ones!
But the reason this wedding is going to ruin me is because it’s a destination wedding – that’s a wedding and a holiday, rolled into one – and not just anywhere with a bit of sea, sand and sunshine, oh no, this one is in Hawaii.
‘A destination wedding is an absolute dream come true,’ Lucy gushes, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘The idea of getting married on a picturesque beach, celebrating with everyone you love, having your photos taken as the sun sets over the horizon. It’s so romantic, isn’t it?’
Lucy, my older sister, is clearly on a different page to me.
We’re in what is thankfully a relatively quiet bar – that’s me, Lucy and the other key players in this wedding – talking about the wedding, because the wedding is the most important thing, the wedding to end all weddings. Wedding, wedding, wedding. Honestly, I am sick of hearing, saying and even thinking the word: wedding.
‘Oh, absolutely!’ Nina replies. ‘I’ve always believed that everyone should get married abroad, preferably on a Tuesday.’
I raise an eyebrow as I stare at her, waiting for what she just said to make sense, or for her to explain what she means. A Tuesday?
‘If the wedding is abroad, and on a Tuesday, then you will be able to tell who is willing to make the time and the effort to be there,’ she explains. ‘Only truly committed friends and family members would make the effort to be there. You’d find out who your real friends are, and only those who are worthy would get to enjoy your special day – no freeloaders who just want a bit of food and to get drunk while you pay for it.’
I purse my lips to stifle a chuckle. The concept of throwing a weekday wedding as some sort of litmus test for friendship is a bit extreme, even for Nina.
‘I’d never thought about it like that,’ Lucy muses.
‘Probably because it’s not realistic,’ I can’t help but chime in. ‘People have jobs and homes and kids and responsibilities and commitments – all sorts of reasons why they can’t just bob to Bali on a weekday.’
‘We’re all making the effort for Hawaii,’ Nina reminds me.
We are, and it really is an effort.
‘Plus, this is already an exclusive wedding, at an exclusive location,’ Lucy reminds her.
Inwardly, I can’t help but roll my eyes. An exclusive wedding. Okay, I will admit that the Grand Palm Resort is an exclusive hotel, everyone has heard of it, whether they’ve been or not – because even rich people feel like paupers there, in comparison to those in the luxury suites, but my sister is delusional if she thinks anyone is actively trying to wangle an invitation to her wedding. She is my sister and I love her – I would travel to the moon to see her get married, if that’s what she wanted – but I’m having to use precious holiday days to take the week off work, and plane tickets to Hawaii aren’t cheap, nor are the cheapest rooms at the Grand Palm Resort, and then there’s all of the usual expenditure that comes with a wedding – see what I mean, about how this wedding is going to ruin me?
Rick, who has never been one to keep his true feelings to himself, sniggers.
‘You know, it’s daft, really.’ He starts swirling the ice in his drink. ‘The way women take weddings so bloody seriously – too seriously, even. And, Nina, come on now, that’s manipulative, crazy-woman talk. Weddings should be simple.’
‘Not all women are like that,’ I remind him, annoyed at his stereotypical viewpoint.
Rick is very much a lad’s lad. To him, women are women, and they’re emotional and crazy and obsessed with weddings. Okay, sure, women can be those things, but we’re complex creatures, with layers and layers of different traits and desires. I hate when men lump us all together as a bunch of girly crazies. In my experience, men can be much worse.
‘Yeah, Rick, Gigi definitely isn’t in that category,’ Nathan pipes up, jumping to my defence. ‘She’s always said she wants something small, just close family and friends at the registry office, followed by a laid-back party. Nothing grand. That’s what I’ve always wanted too.’
Nathan and I talked about our wedding on several occasions – usually when we were in bed at night, being goofy, having a laugh, chatting about anything, everything and nothing. We would always agree that, no matter what, we didn’t want a big, flashy wedding. Each time we had the conversation, the relief I felt was immeasurable. Well, most people do want a grand wedding, whereas I would cringe at the idea of all eyes being on me. Honestly, I don’t know where people find the self-confidence to walk down the aisle. But I’m the kind of girl who would pull a sicky from school, if I knew I was going to be given an award during assembly that I would have to walk onto the stage to collect – walking down the aisle is like that, but worse, because you have to do it in a special dress, that everyone is probably judging, that usually features elaborate details and parts that are ripe for an epic wardrobe malfunction. I just know that I am the sort of girl who would trip over her train or, worse, reflect the light off her sequins and somehow cause a fire that burns an entire church to the ground. Okay, maybe that’s extreme, but why chance it?
‘Well, Nathan, as the best man and not the groom, thankfully you don’t get to call the shots,’ Lucy playfully reminds him. ‘And Gigi’s the chief bridesmaid, so I know she’ll go along with whatever I want.’
Nina, who’s been sitting quietly since I disagreed with her weird Tuesday wedding theory, can’t help but pull a face. You can tell she’s livid about not being chosen as Lucy’s chief bridesmaid because she isn’t making any sort of attempt to hide how she feels – it’s the scowls, the passive-aggressive comments, and the near constant pointing out how she could do a much better job than me at almost everything. Nina is Lucy’s friend and colleague, but I’m her sister, and in the sisterhood hierarchy I’m obviously going to take the top spot – even if Nina might actually be able to do a much better job than I could.
I’m here, despite the unresolved awkwardness that none of us are mentioning, and I’m doing my best. Not being wedding-minded, and never having planned one before, this is all new to me, but Lucy isn’t just my sister, she’s my best friend too – I couldn’t imagine doing all of this, in these circumstances, for anyone else.
‘Well, you’re out of luck, if you don’t want attention on you at your wedding,’ Nina tells Nathan, her mouth twisting into a strange smile. ‘When you get married, your bride is going to be the most jaw-dropping, show-stealing bride in the history of weddings.’
‘Yeah, I know I’m really lucky,’ Nathan says with a smile. ‘I guess, on that day, I’ll be so happy, I won’t care if everyone in the world is watching.’
‘Honestly, mate, I’m worried about you guys stealing the show at our wedding,’ Rick tells him playfully. ‘You might just be bringing the most impressive plus-one anyone here has ever met!’
‘Yeah, seriously, so impressive,’ Nina adds. ‘You guys will be the couple no one can take their eyes off – never mind the bride and groom.’
Everyone at the table laughs, but it doesn’t take long for the atmosphere to turn
Ahh, the elephant in the room – the one who was absolutely not invited to this super-exclusive wedding, but is almost certainly going to be my plus-one – the fact that Nathan and I broke up last year, in November, and now he’s dating someone who is just so impressive, irritatingly so, because I just cannot compete. Oh, and not that it’s a competition, but the fact that he has moved on with so much style (and so soon after our split – a matter of weeks, as far as I can tell), and I haven’t, is starting to make it look like I’m still hung up on him. I don’t even have a plus-one to take to the wedding, which is always there, in the back of my mind, because I am going to look so tragic, being the only single person in the wedding party, while the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with sits loved-up across the table.
It’s an unavoidably complicated situation. Lucy’s fiancé, Rick, is Nathan’s best friend (which means Nathan is his best man too), and since I’m Lucy’s sister and chief bridesmaid, we all have no choice but to play nice. As the wedding day approaches, it’s becoming increasingly evident that we’re going to have to spend more and more time together, and I can’t put into words how much I hate it. How am I supposed to move on from him when he’s still knocking around?
In desperate need of a breather, I make my excuses, telling the group I’m going to the bar to get another drink. Hopefully, while I’m away, they can all whisper together, about how so, so sad it is that I’m single, and how they should all try harder not to make me feel bad. Honestly, I hate the idea of them all pitying me, but if it happens behind the scenes, and it makes it less awkward for me in person, then I’m all for it.
As I walk away from the table, I can’t help but feel a knot in my stomach, knowing that this is just the beginning.
I sit down at the bar, briefly taking shelter from the shitstorm back at the table. The dim lights and quiet chatter are a welcome escape from the increasingly awkward vibe back there.
The friendly barman flashes me a knowing grin as he serves another customer. I wonder if you have to be attractive to be a barman, or whether it just helps. Eventually, he lands in front of me and takes my order.
‘Why the long face?’ he asks, his smile cheeky, knowing what a cliché line he’s delivering.
I wonder how often people actually give him an honest response?
‘I’m the chief bridesmaid at a destination wedding where my ex-boyfriend is the best man, and to make things even more uncomfortable, he’s bringing his new celebrity girlfriend.’
‘Yikes,’ the barman replies, but his curiosity is piqued. ‘Who’s his girlfriend?’
‘Sunshine Greene,’ I tell him with a sigh so deep I almost take the mats off the bar.
‘Wow, she’s hot,’ the barman blurts – almost involuntarily.
Don’t worry, I’m used to that reaction. Sunshine was a contestant on Welcome to Singledom, the reality TV dating show where they stick a bunch of young, attractive singles on an island who have to couple up while trying to survive in a Big-Brother-meets-Survivor situation. I used to be a fan of the show, in fact, I watched the series Sunshine took part in – and hilariously I even made Nathan watch it with me, even though he hates stuff like that. Sunshine actually made show history, by being the only bombshell islander whom every single man was willing to leave their partner for. Not all that long after we broke up, Nathan met her through the PR firm he works for. How was I ever going to be able to compete with that?
Realising his reaction might not have been the ideal one, the barman quickly backtracks and stammers an apology.
‘It’s fine. I’m used to it,’ I inform him. ‘Really. I mean, being still single while he’s moved on, everyone around me seems to think there’s no chance I’ll find a date for the wedding. I couldn’t look or feel any more tragic – especially not to that lot – so, unless you want to slip me your number, when you bring me my drink, to show them that I’m not completely undesirable to everyone…’
I’m joking – well, half joking, at least – but I notice a glimmer of something in the barman’s eye.
‘A barman giving you his number won’t impress them, trust me,’ he replies. ‘But I do have an idea. Go sit back down with your friends. I’ll bring you a drink.’
I smile, nervously excited, keen to see what the barman has up his sleeve. I make my way back to the table and sit down with the others. They’re all back to general wedding chat now, rather than the part that highlights my own tragic situation.
I am just about to get lost in my thoughts when the barman joins us, bearing a tray with my drink and a folded piece of paper. He hands them to me with a grin.
‘The guy you were talking to at the bar wanted me to give this to you,’ the barman tells me, quietly, but still ensuring that my friends can hear him. ‘It’s his number.’
The barman makes his exit, clearly pleased with his work. I look at the piece of paper, then at my friends, and I can’t help but smile as I notice that everyone around the table has turned their attention to me. Then they look over at the bar and notice a handsome, dark-haired man in an expensive-looking suit. Oh, this is so satisfying. I can tell by the look on their faces that, even if it is only for a split second, they’re impressed, maybe even a little envious. There is a hot man at the bar and he’s seemingly given me his number. I’m young (ish), free and single. I can take numbers from hot men. Nathan is in a relationship so, in theory, his days of getting a buzz like this are over.
Their admiration soon crumbles as the man is joined by a woman, clearly his wife. The light catches the shimmer of her wedding ring as she places a hand on his face to kiss him, confirming their connection. The atmosphere at the table turns awkward, and the room suddenly feels smaller, and warmer, and if the ground could just open up and swallow me whole, that would be great. I’m almost certainly heading down that way eventually anyway.
‘Wow, what a creep,’ Lucy blurts.
‘Yeah, that’s not on,’ Rick adds. ‘Someone should say something to him.’
Nathan, ever the gentleman, stands up, his chair screeching loudly against the floor.
‘I’m going over there,’ he announces. ‘His wife should know. He’s not messing her, or you, around like that.’
Oh, great, now everyone feels sorry for me again. Also, more pressingly, this poor man is totally innocent of any wrongdoing, and Nathan marching over there is only going to cause a big mess and, ultimately, more embarrassment for me.
I rise from my seat, clearing my throat, searching for the words and the confidence to nip this in the bud.
‘Wait, it wasn’t him who I was talking to at the bar,’ I insist. ‘You guys have got the wrong end of the stick. That guy is good, he hasn’t done anything wrong, don’t go talk to him.’
‘Then who were you talking to?’ Lucy asks.
All eyes shift from me to scan the quiet bar, searching for the mystery man who sent me his number. Luckily there is another lone man sitting at the bar. Unluckily this man is a dishevelled-looking bloke in his sixties. He’s propping up the bar – actually, technically the bar is propping up him. He’s necking shot after shot as he scowls blankly into space. He’s clearly having a bad day – perhaps even worse than mine, although with each second that ticks by, I only seem to make the competition stiffer.
‘Oh,’ Lucy says simply.
Nathan sits back down again.
‘Okay, well, as I was saying about the food…’
